Dinosaurus Planet Survivors
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Серия: Dinosaur Planet #2
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Dinosaurus Planet Survivors». Краткое содержание книги:
“Not the right moss,” Lunzie said disgustedly. She held a sample under Varian’s nose.
“It stinks!”
“It’s cryptogamous!”
“Really?”
“Propagates by spores. What we want is bryophitic. You didn’t happen to notice how much of the stuff in Divisti’s garden is also bryophitic?”
“If it’s fungoid, I’m automatically prejudiced,” Varian gave a small shudder. “But I didn’t notice fungi in the garden. And the purple moss was the only one of its sort.”
“Don’t disparage fungi. Some of the oddest and most repellent are delicious and highly nutritious.”
“And smelly?”
“You planet-bred types do worry about smell, don’t you?” Lunzie grinned at Varian, and began to scrub her hands with dirt to remove the moss.
“I’d think smell would bother you shippers a lot more.”
“Is it safe to explore a little here?” Lunzie asked, glancing around the small copse.
“I don’t see why not,” Varian replied, after a glance at the giffs.
“I’ll just turn up the volume on the telltagger.”
They ventured farther among the huge, high-branching trees, noting the nail grooves where the long-neck herbivores had steadied themselves to reach the upper leaves and branches. Similar stands of trees were scattered about the vast plain. Distant hadrosaurs, distinguishable by their crests, were bending saplings down to reach the edible twigs.
After concluding that the area had been overgrazed, the two women took to the air again, moving southeast until the land fell away in a huge old fault of several hundred meters’ height. The vegetation in the lower portion differed drastically from that of the plain. There were also more clearings in which to land the sled but the telltagger buzzed so continually that Varian declined to take an unnecessary risk.
“We can try the swamps where we found the hyracotherium tomorrow,” Varian suggested and Lunzie agreed that this might be a more profitable site for the purple moss.
They were turning back when Varian sighted pod-bearing trees, at the northern end of the fault. Although there was room enough to land a space cruiser, the land was occupied by large tusked animals which were either fighting or bashing headlong into slender trunked trees to dislodge pods for noisy consumption. The air-sled frightened the creatures off but Varian preferred to hover well above the tuskers while Lunzie picked, happily muttering about high protein content.
“Make a note of these coordinates, will you, Varian? We’ll want more of these. They’re what give my special stew its flavor.”
Taking another tangent back to the sea cliffs of the golden fliers, they made one more stop, in fruiting trees which Varian also noted for future reference.
The fragrance of the ripe fruit, picked from boughs grazing animals couldn’t reach, filled the enclosed air sled with tantalizing sweetness.
“No more stops no matter what you see, Lunzie. It’s getting dark, and I don’t fancy night landings in that cave.”
“I might just wake Bonnard,” Lunzie said after they’d ridden on in silent appreciation of the sunset display of distant lightning that brightened clouds in the far west. “He can run this boat, can’t he? He’s smart, quick, and he thinks. Besides-”
“Look, if you’re worried, Portegin can stay with you.”
“My concern is for you, Co-leader, not myself. Not that any of you are safe if it’s new blood they’re after.”
“What exactly is bothering you, Lunzie? Tell me now. I’ve had enough surprises.”
“It may just be my suspicious nature, Varian, but your Aygar did mention a beacon. It is forty-three years since the mutiny…”
“So?”
“What do you know of unrest among planetary minorities.”
“Huh?” It took Varian a moment to grapple with the sudden switch.
“I’d heard rumors that choice planets usually end up managed by one of the FSP majors. Financing was the usual rationale. Krims!-You don’t mean…” Varian shot a horrified glance at Lunzie, “you don’t mean that the ARCT-10 might have been taken over by another set of mutineers, do you?”
“A compound ship does not lend itself to mutiny.” Lunzie gave Varian a tight grin. “Too many minorities involved, too many different atmospheres, too bloody strict a surveillance against a possible take over. Command can, you know, close off, gas or eject any section of a compound ship without affecting overall stability, life support, drive or control elements. And the ARCT-10 had a large Thek group. No minority goes against Thek. What I had in mind were the rumors of expeditions on worlds such as this, where sizable teams simply disappeared. Not planted, but no sign of natural disasters or deaths accidental or otherwise. Just the rumor and no official acknowledgment of the problem. No official announcement about finding the lost units, either. Of course, the change-state problems of this immense Federation could account for the lack of news or official confirmation. Very little gets done quickly, especially when Thek are concerned. Forty-three years since our distress call?” Lunzie’s expression was grimly thoughtful. “That, my dear co-leader, is long enough for a homing capsule to arrive at its destination and to permit an expedition to reach the distressed party. In my opinion, that’s why your Aygar was not much bothered by the gene balance in his settlement. And the reason he was surprised you hadn’t homed in on his beacon.”
Varian inhaled a long whistle. “That does put a frame around his attitude. But three days? Could he be that certain of a touch down when they don’t have any communications?” Varian frowned again, mulling over Lunzie’s theory. “When I crossed his line of march, he did get rid of me as fast as he could.”
“Which might mean the newcomers have arrived or are expected soon.”
“He certainly expects to own Ireta!”
“Your space law’s worse than your botany, Varian. If my theory has any substance, you were possessed with sheer genius when you posed as a new FSP expedition.”
“I was? Why?”
“One,” and Lunzie ticked off her points on fingers, “the heavyworlders don’t suspect you are from the original team; they can still assume that we died of our own incompetence after the stampede or went into cold sleep. But if,” and another finger emphasized that point, “an FSP relief party arrives before their reinforcements, summoned by that homing capsule, they will not have clear title of the planet.”
“How could they think they’d have a clear title anyhow?” Varian demanded.
“There’s a considerable code of space law dealing with ship wrecked survivors who reach habitable planets and/or stranded expeditionary members who manage to achieve a certain level of civilization.”
“What does that code of space law say about mutineers?”
“That’s why it’s safer for us to be a relief party.”
“If at first you don’t succeed, have another go?” Varian asked drolly.
“Precisely.”
“But, Lunzie, when the reinforcements arrive, they’d know there aren’t any other ships orbiting the planet.”
“The reinforcements, my dear Varian, are probably illegal and would be most anxious not to be hailed by another vessel. They’ll probably enter the atmosphere under radio silence and as quickly as possible to avoid detection. Since the obvious orbit of a rescue ship is synchronous with the site of original landing, even a large ship can escape detection if the captain has any intelligence.
“And then set about raping this rich world and indulging in their anachronistic behavior. It’s easy now to understand why specialists of the caliber of Bakkun and Berru went along with that asinine rumor about our being planted. They had a world to gain.”